


really not my cup of tea

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Asexuality, F/M, WIP Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-24
Updated: 2011-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ace!Charlie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	really not my cup of tea

“I s’pose I don’t really think it’s a relationship unless you’re having sex,” Alex said, once.

Charlie sort of nodded and said, “Oh.”

*

It’s not like it makes him weird. It just makes him … him. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to work out, because surely people just _know_ things like this, and if you don’t you can’t really be whatever alternative sexuality it is. Right? Not really, Charlie discovers, it actually takes a while to question things and think about things and he never would have bothered, he’d just have left it be, if it hadn’t always been there. At the back of his mind, every time, niggling away. A little voice whispering, _This isn’t quite what I want._ Ruining everything.

*

The first time Charlie has sex, it’s a disaster. Everybody’s first time is a disaster, he’s aware of this, but he can’t help feeling that nobody else in the history of the universe has had such a disastrous first time as his. It’s all the worse because he’s the only one who knows just how bad it is.

The thing is, he’s young and filled with hormones, he fancies his girlfriend really a lot, this should be easy. The usual pitfalls of teenage sex, of course, feature premature ejaculation heavily; he wanks, it’s not like he’s never come, he knows how this whole thing works. It’s a pretty great thing about life, the orgasm. So he’s mentally prepared himself to come way too soon and face either oddly-expressed sympathy or annoyance. It’s just a hazard of being young and horny and actually having sex for the first time ever, whoa.

What actually happens, though, is that it’s _really great_ but just not … quite what he’s been imagining. It is not, he tries not to admit to himself, as good as wanking. Several minutes pass, and the sex is continuing; she seems to like it, that’s a good thing, but he’s just sort of. It’s nice, being this close and intimate with her, he really likes her, he’s just a little bit … bored.

“Are you okay?” she asks, cupping his cheek with her hand, which makes him feel a bit more liked and warm than putting his penis into her vagina does.

“Yeah, yeah, this is good. Is this good? Am I doing it okay?” He’s suddenly very, very sure he’s doing something wrong. He _must_ be, sex is supposed to be the most exciting thing ever.

“You’re doing it _great_ ,” she replies, shifting so her hips are angled differently. She bites her lip. “That’s - mmm, go faster.”

“Right.” He concentrates on thrusting for a while. She starts gasping in what sounds like a pleased way - he hopes it is, at any rate - so he keeps the pace up.

His muscles are starting to ache. She’s arching and making pleased noises, so it must be good for her, but all he can think is, _I don’t know how much longer I can do this before I have to stop and do stretches._

She’s just starting to whimper to a crescendo, not the way porn stars do but it sounds like she _might_ be about to come, when Charlie feels his erection start to soften.

“Shit,” he hisses, frantically thrusting and trying desperately to think of arousing things. Women, naked women, breasts, his girlfriend, _naked women_ , come _on_ \- “ _Shit_ ,” he practically sobs, the biggest failure at sex the world has ever known, can’t even _keep it up_ for long enough to shag, what is _wrong_ with him?

His girlfriend makes a frustrated noise, but then her hand goes between them and Charlie takes this opportunity to slip out of her and quickly wrap the condom in a tissue before she sees that he didn’t come. He watches her rubbing herself with one fingertip, eyes half-open and on him. His face feels hot. Maybe that’s what happened; all the spare blood in his body decided it was bored with being in his dick and wanted to be in his cheeks instead. And his ears and his neck, probably.

Her orgasm is kind of beautiful to watch, and she curls into his side after it. “That was nice,” she says, and Charlie exhales. She hasn’t noticed. She won’t dump him for being frigid, or whatever he is. He kisses her and smiles.

“ _You’re_ nice,” he says, and she giggles.

*

He tries asking one of his mates, once. They’re sitting on his bed playing Super Mario and Charlie says, “Do you ever wonder if everybody makes this big fuss about sex to make it more interesting?”

He just gets a snort and a, “You’re doing it wrong, mate.”

Charlie doesn’t ask anyone after that.

*

“Okay,” is the opening to the most uncomfortable conversation of Charlie’s life, “this is the third girlfriend in six months who’s dumped you and not said a word about why. You’re a great guy, Charlie, from what I’ve seen a great boyfriend.” The fact that she is his closest female friend doesn’t stop this from being achingly awkward. “I’m here for you. Something’s up, and maybe I can help.”

“You can’t,” Charlie sighs before he can think. He buries his face in his hands and says through them, “I mean, nothing’s wrong! It just didn’t work!”

“Charlie.” She waits until he uncovers his face. She looks sympathetic, but he’s still humiliated. “Look, I’m a girl. I can tell you a girl’s perspective on whatever it is. Is it the same problem every time?”

“Yes.” He decides to stop pretending nothing’s wrong. She’ll never give in anyway. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he adds.

“Well. If you do,” she holds up her hands, “I’m here.”

They don’t talk for a couple of minutes. The album she brought over for him to listen to plays on, but he can’t concentrate on it. “It’s embarrassing,” he blurts out, between tracks.

“I won’t care,” she shrugs.

“I will. I’m - I’m a failure at relationships, there’s something wrong with me.” He flops onto his back, wriggling down the bed so he doesn’t bash his head against the wall. By the time he’s finished, his shirt is bunched up by his chin, so he sits up again.

“How are you a failure at relationships?” She shakes her head. “Don’t you always remember birthdays and do little romantic things and all that shit?”

“Yeah, I - I suppose I’m okay at _that_ side of relationships, it’s just -” He stops to bury his face in his hands again.

She starts laughing. “What, are you saying you’re crap in bed and that’s why all your girlfriends leave you?”

“Shut up.” It comes out muffled but high-pitched. She stops laughing.

“Honestly, Charlie, if that’s why you’re getting dumped, they’re not worth it. Any girl who dumps her boyfriend just because he’s not incredible in bed isn’t worth crying over.”

“I’m not crying,” Charlie feels he should point out.

“I didn’t mean literally,” she waves her hands in a gesture clearly meant to convey something but signifying mostly vagueness, “just emotionally. No point getting upset over someone so shallow they’ll reduce a whole relationship just to the sex. There’s so much more to it! There are girls out there who’ll like you as a whole person, Charlie!”

“Oh, thanks, so I’m a completely hopeless case,” he moves one hand from his face to swat her arm. “You’re being so helpful, I’m really glad I opened up about this.”

“Give me a chance,” she shoves him with her shoulder, “I was just going to offer you some advice. From the other perspective.”

He thinks about that. He’s pretty sure it’s something that’s just wrong with him, not anything that can be fixed with sex tips, but he’s never told anyone and it might be good to get it out. “Okay,” he says, freeing his face from his hands but staring determinedly at his lap. “I have - um - a problem …”

“Yes?” She prods his arm.

“I don’t - I -”

“Have you ever made a girl come?”

The question is so frank and unexpected that Charlie looks at her. “Um,” he says, “yes. I think? Almost, a lot of the time.”

“Wait, so you get to the point where she’s _almost_ coming, and then,” she makes very definite motions with her hands that make Charlie stare at his lap again. “I don’t get what the problem is. That’s _good_. Normally bad sex is where the guy can’t last more than thirty seconds and doesn’t give a shit about if you have a good time.”

“I give a shit,” Charlie mumbles, red to the follicles. “I always try, but.”

“Well if you always _try_ , you can’t say you’re bad at sex. A lot of the secret to good sex comes down to caring about if the other person feels good.” She pauses. “So, what, is there something else?”

“I can’t, um.” It’s the most emasculating thing he’s ever said, but that doesn’t bother him as much as how _embarrassing_ it is to say this to a _girl_. “I can’t … keep it up. Or, or get it up, sometimes. But I can’t, I mean. I don’t ever.” He stops to attach his palms to his face and decides to just leave them there. It’s better when he doesn’t have to look at anything, and when nobody can see his face. For everybody involved.

“Oh,” she says, and there’s silence for a minute. Then, “How come?”

“I don’t, there’s something.” It’s hard to talk when you’re pressing your hands into your cheeks, so Charlie takes them away enough to speak. “There’s something just wrong with me, okay? I get - I just don’t -”

“Is it every time? Every girl? Does this happen _all the time_?”

“Yes,” he snaps, “yes, it does, every single time, because _I find sex quite dull_.”

The admission hangs in the air. He slides off the bed and sits on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. He rests his forehead on them and feels her move to sit next to him.

“You’ve never told anyone that before, have you?” she asks, quiet.

“No.”

She exhales. “Okay, female perspective on this. I’ve got a boyfriend, who is sweet and funny and acts like he thinks the world of me, and it’s great, only he’s clearly repulsed by my naked body -”

“ _What_?” Charlie snaps his head up to gape at her. “Repulsed, that’s ridiculous!”

“If you don’t talk about it, and you can’t keep it up during _sex_ of all things, what other conclusion is a girl supposed to come to?”

“That I’m a freak?” Charlie has never felt more bewildered in his life.

“Oh Charlie,” she sighs, putting her arm around his shoulders. “You’re not a freak. I promise. But you _are_ sending mixed signals. Girls are going to think that there’s something wrong with _them_ , not you.”

“But _why_? Why would they think that?” He’s beginning to feel like he will never, ever, in all his life, understand women.

“Because they’ll assume, since you’re a guy, that you always want sex all the time, so if you don’t want it while you’re having sex with them, _they_ must be the problem.” She squeezes his shoulders gently. “Just be upfront about it. Say ‘I’m not a normal bloke, sex isn’t easy for me, but you’re absolutely gorgeous.’”

“Yeah, but then I’ll have to _talk_ about it, and it’s bad enough having this conversation with you,” he drops his forehead onto his knees. “I couldn’t talk about it with someone I actually _fancy_.”

“Then you’re going to make every girlfriend you have feel awful about herself.” She says it gently, but he still winces. “Your choice, Charlie. Either you talk about it, or you get dumped because you’re making someone you really like feel like they’re hideous naked.”

“Thanks,” he groans, “you’ve really been a big help.”

“At least try looking up disinterest in sex. I’m sure you can’t be the only one.”

*

Charlie googles _disinterest in sex_ and finds only depressing websites telling him he’s probably got some psychological issue. Well, he skims the first page of results and that’s all he sees, before closing the tab hurriedly and pretending it never happened.

*

“I don’t, um,”

 

 

 

 

\---------------------------  
From this point on, this was going to deal with the petering out of Charlie's relationships with women, as he struggles between talking about it (and getting bad reactions and then dumped) and not talking about it (and getting dumped). Meanwhile, he meets Alex and starts having romantic-but-not-sexual feelings for him. They move in together, become best friends, and Charlie increasingly wants to hold hands with him and cuddle while they watch Doctor Who. I'm not even sure how I would have resolved that, but the fic would definitely have ended with Charlie coming to terms with being asexual, and being sort-of-boyfriends with Alex, who is allowed to see women too.


End file.
